had a chance to thank her she had paid Nicolo and was hurrying down the street.
The spontaneous kindness of the little woman, who was a perfect stranger, helped to cheer Rupert. He felt that there were some kind people in the world, and his trust in Providence was increased. He went to a baker's, near by, and purchased a ten-cent loaf of bread. Then he made his way back to his humble home in Elizabeth Street.
As he entered the room, the sick girl looked up eagerly. Rupert emptied the oranges on the table, and her face brightened as she saw the yellow fruit which she craved.
"Rupert, I am afraid you were extravagant," said his mother. "These oranges must have cost five cents each."
"Yes, they did."
"We cannot afford such a large purchase in our circumstances."
"They cost me nothing, mother. They are a present to Grace from a lady who met me at the stand."
"She must have a kind heart. Do you know who she was?"
"No, I never saw her before."
"The world is not all unkind. Grace, I will prepare an orange for you. I hope you will relish it."
The sick girl enjoyed the fruit, and after eating it lay back content.
"May I have another in the morning?" she asked.
"Yes, my child."
So the evening passed not wholly unhappily, but still Rupert could not help thinking of the next week, when he would be out of a position.
CHAPTER II.
OUT OF WORK
On Saturday Rupert received his last week's wages at the store.
"I am awfully sorry you are going, Rupert," said Harry Bacon. "It is a shame you are discharged."
"No, it is not a shame. It is only because business is dull that I have to go. I can't blame the firm."
Rupert ascended the stairway at his humble home in Elizabeth Street with a slow step. He felt that he could no longer conceal his discharge from his mother, and he knew what a blow it would be to her. So as he handed the money to Mrs. Rollins he said: "I have bad news for you, mother. I am discharged."
"Discharged!" repeated his mother, in dismay. "Why? What have you done?"
"There is no dissatisfaction with me. I am discharged because times are dull, and business has fallen off."
"I am glad at least that no fault is found with you, but what shall we do? Your salary was all we had to depend upon except the little I make by sewing."
"Don't be discouraged, mother. I shall start to find a place Monday morning. I am allowed to refer to the old firm."
"But—do you think there is any chance to get in elsewhere? Won't other firms be affected by the dull times?"
This was precisely what troubled Rupert, but he answered his mother cheerfully.
"To-morrow is Sunday," he said. "Don't let us think of the future till Monday morning. I am sure something will turn up. At the worst, I can earn something by selling papers."
When Monday morning came Rupert started out on his quest. He had been sent on errands to several houses in the same line, and he resolved to go from one to another in the hope of finding a vacancy.
At the first he was pleasantly received. He was recognized as coming from Tenney & Rhodes, and it was supposed he came on an errand from them. When he asked for a place the superintendent looked distrustful.
"Why do you leave Tenney & Rhodes?" he was asked.
"Because the times are dull, and they are parting with some of their clerks."
"Will they recommend you?"
"Yes. Here is a recommendation," and Rupert took a folded paper from the envelope in which he had placed it.
"That is satisfactory," said the superintendent, his face clearing, "but the same dullness which has reduced their business affects ours. So far from taking on new clerks, we may have to discharge some of those at present in our employ."
Of course there was no more to be said. Rupert visited five other firms, but in each case the answer was the same. They had no vacancy, and did not expect to have any.
It was one o'clock, time for lunch, but Rupert did not feel hungry. His anxiety had taken away his appetite. He rested for an hour on one of the benches in City Hall Park, and then started out again. He resolved now to apply for a position of any kind, since there seemed to be no opening in the business to which he had been trained.
But he met with no better success. Everywhere there were complaints of hard times.
"You are doing better than I am, my boy," said one business man bluntly.
Rupert looked about the large store in which he was standing, and said: "I don't see how that can be, sir, I am making nothing."
"And I am making less than nothing. Last month I fell behind five hundred dollars."
"I am sorry to hear it, sir," said Rupert, in a tone of sympathy.
The merchant looked at him approvingly.
"You appear to be a good boy," he said. "I wish I had a place for you. I can send you on an errand, if that will be any object to you."
"Anything, sir, will be welcome."
"Then you may take a note from me to a firm in Astor Place. Wait five minutes and it will be ready."
Rupert took a seat, and in five minutes the merchant reappeared with a sealed note.
"This is the note," he said, "and here is a quarter for taking it."
"Thank you, sir."
The sum was not large, but Rupert was pleased to think that he would earn something.
"Well," said his mother, when at five o'clock he entered the room. "Have you found a place?"
"No, mother, places seem to be scarce. Still, I have earned something."
She looked at him inquiringly.
"It isn't much—only twenty-five cents. I received it for going on an errand."
"It is better than nothing."
"Yes, it will buy our supper."
Two days more passed. They were equally barren of results. It was nearing the end of the week, and except the silver quarter Rupert had earned nothing.
Things began to look serious. But little was left of his last week's wages, and the time was coming when they would be entirely destitute. Rupert, as he passed through the business district, reflected sadly that while thousands were at work there seemed to be no place and no work for him. He was going down Chambers Street toward the Elevated station when he saw in front of him a young man, perhaps thirty years of age, whose unsteady movements seemed to indicate that he was under the influence of liquor. He came near falling as Rupert neared him.
"Can't I assist you?" asked Rupert, stepping to his side.
The young man glanced at the boy who addressed him with a look of inquiry.
"Yes," he said. "Take my arm."
Rupert did so.
"Where do you wish to go?" he asked.
"I live in Harlem—at One-hundred-and-Seventeenth Street," replied the young man. "Have you a couple of hours to spare?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then see me home. I will make it worth your while."
"I shall be glad to do so," said Rupert, cheerfully.
"I suppose you understand what is the matter with me?"
"I should think you had been drinking too much."
"You are right. I have. Shameful, isn't it?"
"Well, it isn't altogether creditable," said Rupert, not wishing to hurt the other's feelings.
"I should say not. However, it isn't quite so bad as it seems.